


Nightmares and Dreams

by fanfiction_trashpile



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: It's in the title, Nightmare, angsty beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfiction_trashpile/pseuds/fanfiction_trashpile
Summary: Comfort after a nightmare.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	Nightmares and Dreams

_Something explodes, sending a rain of concrete fragments down on your head. You duck under an archway, pulling Remus along by his sleeve. Blood trickles down from your temple. Dragging Remus into the Great Hall, you scan the room for Sirius._

_Lily twists and turns, fiery hair whipping around her head in a threatening halo as she battles two masked Death Eaters at once. She doesn’t seem to notice the blood pouring out of her shoulder._

_  
James is pinned against a wall on the other side of the hall, sending curse after curse at a group of death eaters determined to end his life. You shout, “Stupefy!” giving James a window of opportunity to escape. He mouths a quick, “Thanks.” To you before rejoining the fray._

_  
“Y/N.” Remus lifts a hand slowly, pointing to the head table._

_  
Sirius and Bellatrix duel on the table, sending streams of curses flying at each other. Bellatrix cackles, green sparks shooting from her wand and getting too close to Sirius._

_  
Sprinting away from Remus, you run for Sirius. You won’t let him fight alone._

_  
Just as you reach the steps, Bellatrix yells one final, “Avada Kedavra!” striking Sirius in the stomach. His shocked eyes meet yours as he crumples to the ground._

  
You shoot up in bed, hands clutching your covers. Cold sweat drips down your back onto the warm sheet. You try to muffle the sound of your gasping with one hand. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes.

  
Lily stirs in the bed next to you but doesn’t wake. The other girls in your dorm have the curtains around their beds pulled, but it doesn’t sound like you woke any of them.

  
Unable to close your eyes without seeing Sirius’ body again, you get up, pulling your robe on haphazardly and padding over to the door.

  
You descend the stairs to the common room, praying that the rest of Gryffindor house has gone to sleep.  
Only one of the fires is still going, and the second year boy that seemed to be attending it has fallen asleep. You check that no one is standing in either of the dormitory doorways before tiptoeing over and closing his inkwell. Hands still shaking, you shift his notes away from the flames, just in case. If anything, the war has made you kinder.

  
Of course, you’re still a dick to your friends. Constant torment was just part of the package. But since Voldemort’s rise to power, things had changed. You watched out for the little ones a little more. You were a little more protective of Wormtail when the Slytherin’s were being cruel. Your teasing became more of a comfort your closest friends, Lily and the Marauders. James would just smile, letting you dance around the common room with his glasses on, impersonating him (badly) and making the first years laugh. Remus would tolerate your Werewolf McWerewolf jokes, occasionally throwing in a taunt that would leave your speechless (“Excuse you, Wolfie, my flowing mane is your goals in life.” “No offense, Y/N, but your hair looks like it’s been through a blender.” “How dare you insult my luscious locks!”

  
Without your friends, you’d probably be dead. You were too impulsive and too reckless when the war first began. You’ve since learned, but the thought of something having gone wrong, losing one of the people you love most because of your mistake, hung over you like an unshakeable gloom.

  
The nightmares got worse. You’d stopped telling them ages ago, not wanting them to worry, but Sirius still seemed to notice after particularly rough nights. He’d hug you a little longer, tease you a little less, always telling you that, whatever had happened, everything was going to be okay.

  
You breathe deeply, trying to dispel the image of his lifeless body from your mind, unsuccessfully.  
“He’s fine.” You whisper to yourself, pacing behind the couch where the young boy sat, still fast asleep. “He’s upstairs with the rest of the idiots I call my friends.”

  
You can’t stop yourself.

  
Racing up the boys’ stairs as quickly and silently as you can, you whisper, “I just need to see him.”

  
Reaching the 6th year door, you gently push it open and pad towards Sirius’ bed, cautious of the clothes, books and Quidditch equipment littering the floor. Reaching his bedside, you almost giggle at the sight of his sleeping form. Long hair a mess, mouth hanging open, shirt twisted around his body because of the amount he moves in his sleep, and yet he still looks beautiful.

  
Everyone could see it. You weren’t going to deny your feelings for him. But you couldn’t act them. Not now. Not during wartime.

  
You smile once, consciously acknowledging the steady rise and fall of his chest, and move to leave.

  
“Y/N?” Sirius’ groggy voice makes you smile. “What are you doing in here?”

  
You shush him, quickly walking over to the edge of his bed, “Your friends are all asleep.” You pause, eyebrows knitting together, “Did I wake you?”

  
His hair ruffles as he shakes his head. He beckons you closer, and you end up sitting on his bed, facing him. He grabs your wrist, pulling you a little closer. “You are alright?” His concerned eyes bore into yours, searching for something amiss.

  
“I’m fine.” You assure him, hoping he can’t see the blush spreading across your cheeks at exactly how close the two of you are sitting. “Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  
He looks as if he’s about to make a sarcastic comment, but changes his mind. Instead, he whispers, “You can stay if you want.” There’s no smirk attached to his words, which surprises you. “I’ll be here if you have another bad dream.” He smiles kindly.

  
You contemplate saying no and going back to your bed. Despite the fact that you have a tough exterior, you can’t bring yourself to pass up a chance to cuddle. Especially with him.

  
“You sure?” You ask. He nods, pulling his covers back so you can slip into his bed alongside him. “If you get handsy, I’m leaving.” You warn him, only half-kidding.

  
“Me? Handsy? I’m nothing but a perfect gentleman.” He breathes into your hair with a grin. Sirius slips a hand around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. “Is this alright?”

  
“Yes.”

  
You don’t remember falling asleep, but you’ll never forgot the other Marauders’ reaction to the two of you curled up in bed together.

  
“THE TWO OF YOU HAD BETTER HAVE CLOTHES ON OR SO HELP ME, PADFOOT, LILY IS GOING TO MAKE YOU PAY!”


End file.
